


GUTS

by RoseIsHereNow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood and Gore, F/M, Gags, Is This Abuse? Probably, Knifeplay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Restraints, Stockholm Syndrome, he doesnt die i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseIsHereNow/pseuds/RoseIsHereNow
Summary: weird lil bit of gore i thought of :)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

His hands were cuffed to the headboard, a rag stuffed into his mouth keeping him quiet. She sat on his legs, keeping him from forcing her off. The tip of the blade rested against his stomach, just below his bellybutton, she didn’t break the skin, just pressed hard enough for him to feel a slight prickle of pain, it was merely a threat in that moment. 

She cooed softly at his panicked whimpers, her free hand reaching up to card through his long hair. She rested her palm against his cheek, still making reassuring noises, despite the positions they were in. She removed the knife, and felt him relax slightly beneath her. Only to feel his whole body tense up as she forced the blade into his abdomen. 

He screamed through the gag, tears streaming down his face as she removed the blade and tossed it to the side. She placed one hand on his hip, and with the other, slowly dipped her fingers into the wound, causing a fresh round of screams. She shushed him softly, completely ignoring his screams. After a few more moments of feeling his insides, she noticed that he’d lost consciousness, either from pain or blood loss she didn’t know. Either way, she removed her hand and wiped his blood on the bed sheets. 

She reached up to untie his hands, removed the gag from his mouth, and carefully brushed his hair out of his face. She got up, retrieved the first aid kit from where they had placed it an hour earlier, and began dressing his wound, carefully cleaning the blood from his skin.


	2. The Basement

Time blurred, he had no idea how long he’d been here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen sunlight. He wasn’t even sure how exactly she was keeping him alive, he couldn't remember having eaten anything in ages, but he didn’t feel hungry. 

It was all just a game at first, he could recall how it all started. She had told him shyly that she got a sexual thrill out of the idea of roughing him up a bit, he didn’t mind a bit of pain, it sounded like fun. If he’d known then what he knows now, he would have turned and ran the day he met her. 

The basement door opened, he could hear her soft footsteps coming down the stairs, she smiled at him, before busying herself with something across the room. He could hear water running. An awful scraping sound filled the small space as she used all her strength to drag a large metal bathtub in front of him. Her hands, gently pushing his hair out of his face, reminded him so much of how things used to be, before she’d done this to him.

She set to work unbuckling the belts that criss crossed his bare torso, they were purely for show at this point, he had no hope of escaping now. He let himself be helped into the water, it was warm, and felt like heaven. She was slow and methodical about washing him, pouring cup after cup of water over his head, gently washing his hair, scrubbing his chest, back, what was left of his legs. She was careful to not aggravate any of his many wounds. 

“You understand why I had to do this, right?” she spoke very softly, but she might as well have been screaming in the mostly silent room. “You can never leave me”

His heart broke. He knew he couldn’t leave, but to hear it out loud made it real. She had stolen his life right out from under him. He looked down at his ruined and broken body, at the scars and wounds she had given him, that she reminded him everyday were beautiful.


	3. Domesticity

Stockholm Syndrome set in roughly 2 weeks later. It was as if his mind cleared, and he was able to see what she really was. With his newfound clarity, he saw a beautiful woman, a woman who was utterly and completely in love with him, and isn’t he lucky? She stopped hurting him, she didn’t need to anymore, and his wounds finally began to heal. 

Eventually she let him out of the basement, there was no risk of him running away anymore. She’d taken his legs weeks ago, severed at the knee, so he wasn’t going anywhere. But he didn’t mind, he understood why she had to do that, it’s because she loves him. It’s the same reason she took his left eye. 

She always told him he had beautiful eyes, they were a brilliant blue, curious and bright. She’d made him dinner, and he felt drowsy and loose as she put him to bed. When he woke up, there was a bandage over his face, and on the bedside table, in a glass jar, was his eye. 

He was upset at first, but the way she grinned at him as she entered the room calmed him instantly. She explained that she wanted to always have that piece of him, so he could see her even when she was away. That made sense to him, she was so good to him, he was so lucky to have her.


	4. Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unrelated to the rest of the story, but its based off something that happened to me today and it didnt fit anywhere else

Gazing down on this angel spread out beneath me, his blonde hair a halo behind his head, the unholy image of purity. His head tilted back, his bared neck smooth, and begging to be torn out. 

I could see it all in my head, I’d lean down, he might think I mean to kiss him, but I would force his head back, sink my dull teeth into his milky smooth throat. He might shout, but I’d dig deeper, push my face in further to grab hold of his vocal cords. As I sat up again, his blood staining my face and his flesh between my teeth, he would try to scream, but no sound would come out. 

His blood would run in rivers, staining my bedsheets and sinking into my pillow, I would lean down once more, force our mouths together so he could taste himself on my tongue. I could feel him push against me, could feel the gag building in his ruined throat. He’s still inside me, that seemed to upset him and he tried desperately to force me off. I could feel his soft hair in my hand as I pulled, pain is a wonderful motivator to behave. I could watch the light leave his eyes, the blood loss too much for him.

Back in reality, his perfect throat still intact and my sheets still clean, I push the fantasy to the side and instead I simply say, “You’re pretty.”


End file.
